


This Pull Should Be Magnetic

by CallMeBombshell



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeBombshell/pseuds/CallMeBombshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written at <a href="http://cherrybina.livejournal.com">cherrybina's</a> <a href="http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/211815.html">kinkfest</a> for the prompt of Arthur loving having his hair pulled during sex. Also, this is the first time I've ever written porn, so I hope I did alright!</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Pull Should Be Magnetic

It's not something Arthur's ever really noticed before. He's had plenty of partners, male and female both, and he's done plenty of things. He's long since figured out the place on his body that make him shake, the ways he needs to be touched to send those lovely, electric shivers down his spine that make him arch and shout when he comes.

But this is something new, something better.

He won't say that he's _exclusive_ with Eames, because they both know that if either of them even decided to go home with someone else, neither of them would have a problem with it. Arthur's not attached to Eames in any real way. It's just that things with Eames have always been so much better than with anyone else, and Arthur really can't see the point in going out and finding someone else as long as Eames is more than willing to be dragged back to Arthur's hotel room.

They've been doing this thing for roughly six months now, in between jobs (and sometimes during them, when the stress gets to be too much and they need a release), and by now Arthur thinks Eames must have a full mental catalogue of all the best ways to make Arthur come apart in his hands: the scrape of his fingernails down Arthur's sides, catching at his ribs; lips and tongue at his collarbone, just a hint of teeth teasing at a bite; the scratch of his stubble across Arthur's stomach as he kisses his way down, tongue darting out to dip into his belly button; that angle he gets when he sits back slightly, looking down at Arthur where he's slayed across the sheets, dragging against his prostate with even the slightest movement.

And now he's found something even better than all of that.

Eames has Arthur in his lap, pushing into him in short, relentless strokes as Arthur clings to the vast expanse of Eames' broad shoulders. Eames has one arm wrapped around his back to keep him up, keep him close, Arthur's cock heavy and straining between their bodies, and Arthur can feel the hot press of Eames' skin, the ridges of his muscles every time Eames moves. The friction of hot, sweaty skin against skin is nearly too much, the sensation mixing with the feel of being stretched around Eames' girth, sending white-hot bolts down his spine with every movement.

"You love this, don't you?"

Eames' voice is gasping and rough, the sound of it spiralling straight to Arthur's cock and he whines deep in his throat, fingers tightening against Eames' shoulders.

"You love letting me do this to you," Eames says, punctuating his words with a particularly delicious roll of his hips that has Arthur gasping and arching against him.

"Fuck, Eames-"

Eames' arm tightens around Arthur's back as his other hand comes up to rest against the base of his skull, fingers twining with the soft, damp hairs at Arthur's nape.

"You love feeling me all around you," Eames continues, and Arthur can feel the roughness of his voice almost like a physical touch, scraping over his skin and making him shiver. He lets out a sound halfway between a whine and a moan and Eames' hips jolt upwards, his cock slamming into Arthur's prostate just as his fingers tighten slightly in Arthur's hair.

The frission of energy that shoots up Arthur's spine nearly blinds him and he gasps, spine arching and tightening as he grinds himself down on Eames' cock.

"Oh, really?"

Eames' voice is dark and jagged, and if Arthur were more coherent or more poetic he'd make up some lovely metaphor like velvet over broken glass, but right now he can feel himself shaking, can feel every point on his body where Eames is touching him. His skin feels too tight, too hot, the fingers of Eames' hand at the base of his skull feel like five delicious points of fire against his scalp and he can't help but pull his head forward slightly, panting against Eames' mouth, just to feel the pull against his scalp.

"Oh," Eames says again, and Arthur blinks his eyes open (and really, when did they close? He can't remember) to see Eames staring back at him, eyes liquid and nearly black, his pupils blown with lust. The smile on his lips is predatory, twisting sideways and turning into something sly and wicked.

"Well now," Eames purrs, "this is a lovely revelation."

Eames' fingers tighten slightly and Arthur practically _whimpers_ , shoving himself down on Eames' cock.

"God, Eames, just- _fuck_ -" he gasps for breath, feeling his heartbeat pounding through him, sending throbbing little shivers up his neck, blood pulsing just under his skin where Eames has his hand fisted in Arthur's hair.

"Christ, Eames, just keep going, fuck-"

He's cut off by the feel of Eames' fingers clamping down, twisting in his hair and pulling his head back slightly. There's an edge of pain to the wave of pleasure that floods through him, and it only serves to make Arthur want it more. He doesn't know what sort of sound he makes, but he must sound absolutely devastated because Eames' hips surge upwards, driving himself even deeper into Arthur's arse even as his hold tightens more.

"Harder, _please_ , Eames-"

Arthur's panting now, head drawn back and his pulse jumping as Eames leans forward to suck bruises into the column of his neck. The driving rhythm of his hips is faltering somewhat as Arthur arches, too focused on the whit-hot waves of pleasure spiraling in his gut. Eames thrusts have become erratic and he gives one last tug to Arthur's hair as he comes with a shout, pulling Arthur down into his own blinding orgasm.

It feels like hours later when Arthur blinks his eyes open again. He's lying sprawled on to of Eames, who's flopped backwards against the pillows, breathing hard. Arthur can feel one of Eames' large hands resting, proprietary, against the swell of his arse while the other still rests at the base of his skull, think fingers smoothing carefully over Arthur's sweat-damp hair.

Arthur's mouth hurts and he realises he must be grinning like an idiot, but he feels so wonderfully loose and floaty that he just can't bring himself to care.

"You really liked that, didn't you?" Eames asks, voice sounding wrecked, all sandpaper-rough, and Arthur doesn't have to look up at his face to know that Eames is favouring him with the dopey, sated smile he gives him every time they wind up like this, reduced to a pile of limp, sweaty limbs, with no intention of untangling themselves any time soon.

"Shut up," Arthur grumbles, but he's still smiling stupidly so it comes out sounding far more fond than reproachful. "That was... Christ, I don't even know what that was."

"You," Eames says pointedly, "have a bit of a thing for having your hair pulled."

Arthur snorts. "A bit, yeah. You think?"

"The real question," Eames continues, fingers tapping lightly against Arthur's neck, "is why you didn't tell me this before. I could have made great use of this little bit of information."

"I uh, I didn't actually know," Arthur says, ducking his head against Eames' shoulder to avoid seeing the pleased, smug look that inevitably graces Eames' face. From the very beginning he'd been a quick learner, discovering all the things Arthur loved, and, clearly, some that Arthur didn't even know existed.

"Is that so?" Eames purrs, and he sounds just as self-satisfied as Arthur thought he would be. "Well I'm certainly glad we figured this out," he says, turning his head to murmur into Arthur's ear. "Because believe me, Arthur, when we've recovered from this, I fully plan on seeing exactly how far this little kink of yours goes."

Arthur whimpers slightly, feeling his cock twitch interestedly, and wonders dazedly, how that's even possible, given the orgasm he's still coming down from. Beside him, Eames laughs, turning slightly so he can slide his lips over Arthur's, pressing a bruising kiss against his lips. His fingers scratch lightly against the back of Arthur's neck. He curls a strand of Arthur's hair around one finger, giving it just a short tug, and laughs again when Arthur whines, hips jerking slightly against Eames'.

Arthur feels Eames' hand creep into his hair again, fingers tightening slightly, just enough to feel it, as he deepens to kiss, tongue sliding out to curl around Arthur's as he pulls just slightly on Arthur's hair. Arthur gasps against Eames' mouth, pulling back just enough to stare down at him.

"Keep doing that," he rasps, "and you won't have to wait very long."

Eames' smile is wide and wicked as he flexes his fingers in Arthur's hair.

"Oh, love, that is _exactly_ what I wanted to hear."


End file.
